Facets
by the house of the rising sun
Summary: The "Shuffle Challenge" gone Fight Club. Rated T for language and themes.


**DISCLAIMER: I love _Fight Club_, but don't own it :'(**

- Shuffle Challenge: Fight Club -

**Rules:  
1. Pick a character, fandom, pairing, friendship, whatever.  
2. Put iTunes or your music program on shuffle and start playing songs.  
3. For each song, write something inspired by the song related to the theme you chose earlier. You only have the song length. No pre-planning and no writing after the song is over. No skipping songs either.  
4. Do this for ten songs**

I think I'll just go with whatever pairing comes to mind. I'm a big MarlaxNarrator (Jack) shipper, so BEWARE! :3

_**Lord, Don't Slow Me Down-Oasis**_

I want you to hit me as hard as you can.

I am punching his head as hard as possible. That means I am punching my head. No wonder I am getting dizzy. I thought it might've been the excitement. Somehow, I'm unsurprised. Bam-bam-bam-bam.

Tyler grins at me with a bloody mouth. I'm grinning? How can I see my mouth smile? The blood clotting between my teeth like syrup...his teeth. I grinned back, and felt a heavy drop land on the dusty floor. And drove my scraped, red knuckles into that infuriating, smiling face once again.

* * *

_**Oh! Darling-The Beatles**_

La la la, Mar-la la la. I smelled her in the bed near him. She smelled like cigarettes and hairspray, and something sicker and frailer.

_Desperation_.

I can smell her desperation from my side of the mattress. She conceals it under the acrid odor of tobacco well, but it's distinctly there. I snort, and loop an arm generously around her waist.

I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

* * *

**_Miss Murder-AFI_**

She gave a little smile before her left foot moved, dangling in the air like a little doll's foot.

"Marla, what are..."

The second followed. She was whisked out of sight before I knew what was happening. After about fifteen seconds of disbelief, I heard a terrified scream, and a blood-curdling crunch.

And that was the end of Marla Singer.

* * *

**_The Dark I Know Well-Spring Awakening Soundtrack_**

Shaking hands grab at the cigarettes and the matchbook, trying vainly to light another. No others to be had, and then no matches discovered. The owner of the writhing hands pounds them on the table and without warning, begins to scream, sobbing in frustration and anger.

Tyler runs from the inner room to see the commotion, and ducks in time to miss the table being hurled in his direction.

"Why?" she screeches. "Why can't you LOVE me?"

Tyler stares, awed that there are human feelings in this all-dancing crap after all.

* * *

**_Wake Up-The Presidents of the United States of America_**

Up. Out of bed. Brush teeth. Coffee. Paper. Two pieces of toast, butter.

Shower. Shave. Undershirt. Shirt. Boxers. Pants. Belt. Blazer. Socks. Shoes.

Gascan. Keys. Bandages. Cigarettes. Rules.

Ready.

* * *

**_Halloween-RENT Original Broadway Cast_**

Well. What now.

Fight Club's over. Project Mayhem deceased. No followers, no Tyler. No Marla.

Just...me. And the furniture.

* * *

**_Don't Let Me Down-Across the Universe Soundtrack_**

"You've met me at a very strange time in my life."

Her small hand folded in his. The building burning before their very eyes. Cold wind cutting at their exposed skin. Her eyes watering, her hands shaking. The world certainly wasn't right.

But he thought hard, as he looked at what Tyler had done.

The world certainly wasn't right. But it wasn't wrong.

* * *

**_The Day the World Went Away-Nine Inch Nails_**

You're not who you're pretending to be, you know that?

You're not this "real," "warm," "person."

You're a sadistic. Freakish. Ostracized. Piece. Of. Shit.

That's what you _are_. Don't try to deny. Don't try to fuck around. You are nothing. You are no different from I. You. Are. A Waste.

Do not fuck with me.

Do not fuck with _us_.

You know who we are, and you know who you are. So get off your god damned high-horse. Join the rest of humanity. Stop acting like you're better because of your job, and your wife, and your fucking picket fence ideals.

You're the same piece of shit I am. Learn it. Live with it. Embrace it.

* * *

**_December 4th-Jay Z_**

"A thirty-year old boy." my mother tried hard. I don't blame her.

But I'm a nothing. She didn't mean to create a nothing. She didn't want me to be nothing. Harvard. Yale. Brown. Cornell. She wanted me to go. So I went. Got my degree in business. Ending up in a bullshit, two bit job, a life bland and boring and useless.

My mother didn't mean to create a nothing. But that's what I am. What I was.

* * *

**_For Good-Wicked Soundtrack_**

"Is this it?"

She looked at him. Tears in her eyes, for the first time. He'd never seen her cry, and doubted anyone ever would again.

"Yes, Jack. Tyler. Whatever the fuck your name is."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

A stiff silence.

"Well. Say it."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm the worst thing that's ever happened...?" he was prompting her. The tears launched themselves over her lower lids. She let her bag fall to the ground.

"You've given me everything I could want," she said. "But I need to know that I'm worth more to you than that."

"You're worth plenty to me." as soon as it left his mouth, he knew. Her face stiffened. The tears seemed to dry in that moment.

"Good-bye." she uttered.

"Bye." he whispered.

The sound of the shuttering screen door suddenly became the most heart wrenching sound he'd ever heard.


End file.
